Punching Through Life
by Aku No Kokoro
Summary: Vi's thoughts at several instances in her life after joining the police force. All regarding a certain sheriff. One-sided Vi/Caitlyn
1. All Work and No Lay

The office was stuffy as hell. It consisted of a lone desk, stuffed with paper work, and a large purple top hat. On the left of the entrance door was another desk, less grand, and much less neat, with a simple chair in front of it. There was a bookcase off to the right of it, and a lone window letting in the occasional ray of sunlight, and leading out to a spectacular view of The City of Progress. But this didn't change the fact that the room was indeed stuffy, and boring, and that Vi wished she could be anywhere else right now. Namely out on patrol, but that's the reason she was here in the first place. Patrols meant trouble, especially when Vi was involved, because she zealously caught and apprehended dozens of crooks on each on. Trouble and crooks captured meant tons of paper work about every little detail on what happened. And that meant being stuck inside to file papers inside Caitlyn's office, while said sheriff kept a watchful eye to make sure her deputy didn't slack off. That, and since Vi required some form of assistance or another on documents, so she may as well be close by.

However, that also meant that Vi would constantly be distracted by the presence of her superior in the same room as her, and the fact that the woman in question would have her eye on Vi. Watching Vi. It made the deputy nervous for several reasons, too many to allow any actual progress on her documents. This usually lead to Caitlyn, with strict posture and a sharp tone to 'gently' remind Vi get back to filing, which she always took as beratement. That by slacking off she had made herself look like less in the sheriff's eyes. It wasn't nearly that dramatic, though. However, she still couldn't help herself for letting her mind wander the way it did, so this happened often. It was too damn hard to focus, though, when she could just tilt her head to the right and see Sheriff Caitlyn in all her glory.

It would be too damn hard to focus, when without looking, Vi already knew the sight that awaited her if she did look. It would be the sheriff, sitting down, head pointed toward her desk filling out her own share of paper work, and once in a while, she would glance up to make sure Vi wasn't lost in thought again (If only the sheriff knew what her deputy was thinking about). She would be in that purple dress that started too damn low, and ended too damn high. Who the hell would make such a thing anyway? And would the sheriff, with that much class, wear it? It's purpose was obvious, to show off those lovely breasts, and her long smooth legs, and every single fricken curve in her body. And it did it's job _very_ well. Vi found herself biting the inside of her cheek once again in an effort to control herself. To remind herself that she should be doing paper work right now, and that she shouldn't even be thinking Caitlyn right now. Or at all. Ever, because classy ladies like that don't go fo-

"Eyes at your desk, not at the cieling, Vi."

Fuck. Caught once again. It was always so humilating when this kind of thing happened. Caitlyn had a habit of making the the bruiser seem like a child, and yet, Vi could've sworn she was older. Still, she resigned herself to stare down at the documents, intent on _staying_ focused this time, but that was a lost cause. Not when you-know-who was a few steps away. The words mixed and jumbled together, and some of them she needed a dictionary for. To the best of her ability, she managed to sign each one correctly (In her best attempt at cursive) until she turned the next page. A huge blob of ink assaulted her then and there with confusing directions and complex words. Something about the protocal, it made no sense, at least to her. She would need help on this one, and yet refused to ask. Vi has always been too proud of a lass, but there was also the question of whose assistance. It was stupid, but she wanted to prove the sheriff that she could do it on her own, that she was a big girl now. She wanted to _impress_ her.

This was to no avail however because 12 minutes passed and Vi was still on the same page. She was content with simply staring at it, rather than admit she couldn't do it, when the sheriff had somehow materialized behind her. Vi hadn't even noticed until Caitlyn bent down low to inspect the document closely. The shock hushed Vi into silence, while Caitlyn didn't seem to notice her awkwardness. Instead, the sheriff simply ran her eyes along the words. Finally, the silence broke when Caitlyn spoke

"It's simply asking you about their descriptions."

"Hm." Responded Vi still too startled to say anything coherent, but still able to play off aloofness. Satisfied, the sheriff promply walked back to her desk.

But the strawberry scent of Caitlyn's shampoo still lingered. And the spot on her back where Caitlyn's breasts rested was still warm.

Well shit.


	2. Swinging Back and Forth

Vi entered and shut the door behind her. She then leaned her back on it and slid down. Her muscles ached, and as overzealous as she was, even she needed to rest and relax a long day of work. She loved the job, of course she did. She could sock a convict in the face and face little repurcussion because she was doing it for the good of Piltover and all that jazz, but she needed time to herself. Especially to deal with the frustrations of the last few hours.

It was a rarity that Sheriff Caitlyn would actually find time to go out and her own patrolling. Usually she was signing her perfect signature over and over on ink clustered paper, or personally training the new recruits, or keeping her gear in tip top condition, preventing her prized sniper from rusting due to its time out of use. But for once it happened, and hell, she even did her patrol with Vi. Given all she did, the sheriff could definitely use a break, but she insisted on this sort of thing. It was her way to show she wasn't just a boss, that she would do the grunt work too. The thing was, though, that she had nothing to prove, and everyone in the area worried it would stress her out. She seemed to show no sign of cracking yet though, and no one would dare tell her otherwise.

So the two of them set off into the night, first by car, riding out into the outskirts of the city, and their protective establishment, and into the slums. Then they roamed on foot, on a predetermined route. It was an efficient set up, thought of by the head behind the Piltover Police Force herself. On the patrol, Caitlyn took the lead, rifle in tow, and ready. Vi followed, a little behind, a little to the left, and with her hexteched hands behind her head. For the most part, there was little commotion. Plenty of scummy looking bastards, but nothing _visibly_ illegal. You couldn't just nail a guy for looking scummy. Well you _could_ but Vi couldn't anymore, especially not in this company.

During this time though, Vi had plenty of time to admire. Plenty of time to notice how the city lights made the sheriff's skin glow, and how it was a nice image. Or how she gazed at everything, never missing a detail, and compiled it, keeping it in the big picture. How the sheriff could just keep going forward, never once faltering or stumbling. Vi also made note of the hungry gazes from the horndogs as they walked pass. She could see them salivating, and her hands dropped to her side and clenched. On instinct, she sent them angry, overprotective glares.

"Calm yourself, I know you're itching for a fight, but control yourself."  
>And once again Caitlyn did that thing again. The eyes on the back of her head thing. But (luckily) she had the reasoning wrong.<p>

"Control yourself."

Now that brought back a familiar memory. One where she had once again thrashed a group of crooks, and somehow or another, through a sleazy lawsuit, the Force ended up paying for the hospital builds. Vi remembered a frustrated Caitlyn pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut in agitation. Then, the sheriff spoke in a calm voice, 

"Do control yourself in the future." And left it that, though the tone was absent, the shame was unmistakably there.

"Alright." The Deputy thought to herself. "Just this once I'll hold back."  
>And in the very corner of her mind, in a part she didn't even know existed, a little voice added "For you."<p>

Long story short, the ran into a group of muggers that night, and Vi roughed them up much less than usual. As Caitlyn finished handcuffing them, Vi glanced over, hoping for some sort of approval. Some sign that not being Vi was worth it. She only recieved a small obligatory nod, and like that, she knew her efforts were neither appreciated, or noticed. The rest of the night was eventless, but for once, her gauntlets heavily dragged down her shoulders.

So here she was, sitting on the floor, back against her door. She groaned and finally got up, walking over to a simple couch in front of an oddly lavish desk. She dropped her backpack on it, and dropped herself on the couch. Vi stayed there, simply opting to close her eyes and stare at the blackness of her lids for a few minutes. Eventually, she pulled herself upright and gingerly removed each gauntlet. Unlike the bag, she placed them delicately on the table, palm-side up, and in a way so that they looked perfectly similar. A ritual, to her longest and bestest friends. After that, she rubbed the sore spots on her arms and legs.

Finally she pulled her uniform shirt off, which clung to her by the sweat of the night. Then she peeled off her work pants, and threw both to one side of the couch. Getting up and stretching, she went to open a window. The cold air flooded in, and she breathed it, before getting bored of just standing there. The chill conducted itself on the sweat on her body, and she found herself cold now too. Great.

With a huff of sigh, she dragged her feet over to a faded red punching bag. A few dents decorated the sides, never really inflating itself from her blows. She lazily took up a boxer stance, and swung. The sack flew away and came back, so she knocked it away again. As time went on, her punches became faster, harder, and the bag flew farther and farther. She was starting to warm now, adrenaline kicking in, blood starting to, and she remembered how her day went.

She remembered her effort. Punch. And how it wasn't noticed. Punch. How she had tried. Punch. So damn hard to go against herself. What made her _Vi_. Punch. And it wasn't even appreciated. So why. Hook. Did. Hook. She. Jab. Even bother? She remembered not having such a stupid feeling. Smash. When the **hell** did she try to please someone anyway? Smash. And the worst part was, the one time she does, it didn't even matter. The jabs were becoming animalistic. No, maybe the worse part was that she didn't want to impress someone else before. Headbutt. That she used to live for just herself. Smash. That she didn't always feel so disugstingly _weak_.

This continued, each hit sending the bag farther and farther away, to have it swing back faster, and sent back harder. Then Vi got to picturing the sheriff's goddamn face on the bag, and she goes for the hit that liberates her once and for all-  
>But it never lands. The hand that was going to land the blow uncurls, and she rubs the back of her calloused knuckles gently on the bag in a tender caress. She remembers how soft the skin on Cait's face looked, and can't bring herself to do it. Her throat hitches, and stomach tightens, and she's still trapped.<p>

Slowly but surely, she unbends her knees, standing tall once again. The cold is creeping up again, and she easily recalls a time when another person didn't have this much impact on her. When she was free to do what she wanted for herself. She misses those days  
>And then she remembers the sheriff, and she doesn't miss them so much anymore. And that's confusing as hell. So she grits her teeth, because so many things are clashing together, conflicting things, and it doesn't make sense, so everything is just a huge clusterfuck. And she throws herself in bed, and just hopes that tomorrow goes better. That she <em>means <em>something to a certain someone tomorrow. 


	3. Frustrations and Temptations

Hell has broken loose on Valoran, or if not now, it will soon. The reason for this being that Sheriff Caitlyn was drunk. And to repeat, Sheriff. Caitlyn. Was drunk.

Vi could hardly believe it. How the hell did this happen? Well there was that party, the one the city held for the Force for another year of protecting the citizens of Piltover. Fine work, well done, and all that. And maybe for once, the sheriff really did decide to take it easy. "Just one or two drinks." she said, but as the night went on, and the conversations went on longer and longer, and became more numerous (Everyone wanted a piece of the sheriff, Vi would know) Caitlyn needed to wet her whistle. So it seems that one thing lead to another, and now Vi was left at a dinner table with a drunk superior wearing a flushed face, and nearly bursting out of her dress, along with a few guests. Probably from high standings.

The more older, modest men averted their eyes, and continued to discuss taxes, work, business stuff. The younger men (and woman) shamelessly let their eyes wander at her ample bust, which was more than ready to jump out for freedom and fresh air. And then, fearing they would be caught, would jump up to look at her face, before shamelessly letting their gaze drop again.

Caitlyn was a damn bombshell. And she knew it, knew how to use it and everything. This fact tempted the crap out of Vi immensely, and because it tempted her, it pissed her off. In short, she was still trapped. The sheriff in question wore a simple black dress and matching heels. Thats it. Nothing special. Except for the fact that the dress clung to _everything_ and stopped at all the right/wrong places. It made her want to punch all the leerers in the room, and herself for the same reason.

Vi herself dressed in something much more modest. A simple tux, tailored to her measurements, and a simple red bow tie, just to make it a little more unique. After all, there was no way she was going to wear a dress. Ever. At any rate, the hours passed by, and all the other guests started to dwindle out one by one. Which left Vi, Caitlyn, and a few spectators and staff, who were all making their way out. Caitlyn stood up shakily, wobbling in her heels, face flushed, and covered in sweat from the heat of the booze.

"Hey, you okay there, Boss?" Vi called out. She never did call her by her name. That implied a type of close friendship. A closeness that wasn't there.  
>"Yes, yes. I'm fine, I just need to- oh!" The vocal flow of her richly cultured voice was broken by her stumble.<p>

"Okay, maybe I'm not so alright after all." She added on, as she takes another tentative test step forward. "Ah!" She starts to tumble again.

"I've got you." Vi says as she catches her. "Thank you." Caitlyn responds, but all of a sudden, her eyes get this sort of glazed look to them. Then her lids start to droop lower and lower, and when they closed completely, the sheriff's body went limp in the enforcer's arms. It took Vi a few moments to register what had happened, but when she did

"Well shit." She muttered out. And then "Hey, hey! Wake up!" She shouted, all the while shaking the the sleeping person in her arms. In response, said body yawned, and then went limp again. Well that worked. Vi was not in a good mood though. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. There was just so much skin to touch, and when she tried to avoid it, she found she couldn't, less she would drop the good sheriff on the cold floor, and it was doubtful she would be happy about that.

"So now what?" Vi muttered to the empty air that could not hear her. "I guess I'll just take you home." And set on that, Vi carried the woman out the door before realizing

"Hold on, where do you live again?" And back to the futile shaking. "C'mon!" She whined, before giving up. She then realized that the only other option would to take the passed out sheriff back to her house. Vi's house.

"Well shit." She muttered again.

When they finally arrived, Vi fuddled with carrying the drunk sheriff, and closing/locking her car door. She had the same difficulties with getting into her apartment. Once she made it inside, her first instinct was to put the sheriff in bed. But looking at it, the thing was a mess. So first she placed her down on a chair, and made it as best as she could. As nice and comfy as possible (Another effort that probably won't be appreciated.) Once satisfied, she layed Caitlyn down, and since it was hot and sweating, didn't bother to throw a cover over her.

Vi pulled the chair beside the bed, and sat on it, exhausted. Parties sucked. Especially those high class ones. For a moment, she pondered getting up and sprucing up the place, because she didn't want her superior to wake up to a pig sty. Yep that's what she would do.

And yet she just remained rooted to that chair, staring at this form before her. The rise and fall of her chest, how her lips looked so plump, so warm, so inviting...  
>One little kiss couldn't hurt could it?<p>

Yes it could. It definitely could. And what the hell was she thinking anyway? Taking advantage of the situation. Sure she may have been a crook, but even she wouldn't have gone this low, could she? She might've, it's hard to remember. But she wasn't really going to do it now, was she? This is Caitlyn. Sheriff strict-as-iron Caitlyn. If she were to find out, it would be bad. This was illegal and wrong on so many levels. And besides, how could she even think of doing that to freaking Caitlyn? But then again, who wouldn't?

And Vi sat right there, debating with herself, over and over, drowsiness overtook her. She woke up the next morning to stare at an (actually neat for once but) empty, made bed. The house was desolate, and once again, it was only Vi. Alone.

The sheriff didn't leave a note or anything. She didn't even say good bye.


	4. Green Eyed Vi

Vi shoved another branch out of her face as she continued to stalk through Summoner's Rift. She walked with purpose, through thick thickets of greenery on pursuit of another enemy to drive into the ground. She stalked until a shrill mechanic scream echoed into her mind; her Summoner commanding her head to mid lane, it seemed a team fight was breaking out, but they needed a strong initiate. Vi usually didn't like being told what to do (Even when it was a certain Sheriff. If anything, she might've hated that more.), but she could play nice if it meant winning/and or smashing faces.

She arrived through the river bush and watched the two teams before her, trading projectiles back and forth, but in the chaos it was only hit and miss. They locked each other in stalemate, a fool hardy charge could either spell victory or defeat, but probably the latter. They needed something tactical, something strategic to pull through. Vi was neither of those. So she revved up her gloves and charged head first into the enemy team, one arm behind her to accelerate,the other in front of her to grab the first thing that brushed her fingers. The enemy team had either hauled ass out of the way or were knocked aside by a rocketing pinkette, when at last, she managed to grab onto something solid.

Excited, and not hesitatiing for a second, she shot herself into the air, glancing up to see her prize, her prey, it's shocked expression before she slammed them into the dirt. Instead, she was the shocked one, as in her clutches was the smooth leg of Sheriff Caitlyn. For a second, she stopped cold in mid air. Was Vi really going to slam her into the ground? Her? Really? Could she?

Hell yes she would. Of course she would. She was _Vi_ and no stupid _feeling_ would make her not destroy something. Would make her not be _her_ (Not anymore). A certain conviction filled her, one that had been absent for far too long. She missed it. With that she powered her free hand skyward, and sent both her and the good sheriff plummeting back to Earth. But before they made contact, Caitlyn had wiggled her way free.

That moment of hesitation in Vi was enough for Caitlyn to regain her senses and kick herself loose. Whilst the two were still several feet in the air, Caitlyn fired a two-ton net, snaring the enforcer and sending her on a return trip. By herself. The net also sent Caitlyn upwards, slowing her descent, and allowing her to migitate the fall. Whilst airborne, she had the opportunity to take a potshot. The bullet spiraled out of a sniper's barrel, was pulled straight down by gravity, and then it hit. Hard. Hard enough to make Vi cough up blood, and try to gasp it back when she was done. The enforcer's vision was going black, she belt her body fading, and then she felt herself slowly being brought back to life on the fountain of purple base. The explosion of the Nexus almost charred her face off by the time she got back.

She learned the details after the game. Apparently her charging in like a wild bull wasn't the problem. That was too be expected in Vi. The problem was that she did it wrong, let the carry get away, got herself killed, lured her own team to go rushing in with a false sense of security only to be annihilated, and in a nutshell, losing them the whole game. Everyone on her team wouldn't stop glaring at her afterwards, and it was to be assumed that her summoner was getting a lot of shit too. Still, Caitlyn walked over, prized rifle hanging by a strap on her shoulder, and offered a handshake (How professional) and a "Good Game, Vi.", along with a slight smile (That probably held no hidden yearning what so ever).

Vi shook it, taking what she could get. It really didn't matter which team won, since each had a representative of Piltover on their side, so no matter what, the city gained reputation. The two started to walk back towards the transport station to take them home, when a masculine voice called after him. Turning around, Vi saw that it was the jackass face of Jayce, Hero of Tomorrow, wielding a large hammer, and an ego just as big. Or perhaps this could have just come from Vi's general dislike of the guy.

"That was a great game, ladies." He said, with a sly grin on his face, leaning on his hammer a bit. "Say let's walk back together."

He had a stupid face. Immediately the sleazy bastard tried to strike up a conversation with a certain Sheriff.

The two were on the same side, so Vi's hostility towards the guy didn't make much sense. In fact, they might made good friends. They liked their muscles, their pride, their machinery, and the two could be loud as hell. They'd probably have loads of fun at a bar together.

But Jayce had a significant difference. While Vi was on the force, you could hardly look at her and not think anything but "Punk". Now when you looked at Jayce, who was fighting for the very same thing as Vi, everyone thought he was a hero. It was the way he walked, the way he hammed things up when he talked, the cheesey one liners. It was the fact that he donated large sums of money to Piltover's research, or that he single-handedly went and handed it to that pasty guy from Zaun. The loser saved kittens from trees, and he seemed to make it his personal duty to have his face on every newspaper article.

He was a frigging White Knight. And as much as this pissed the hell out of Vi, it gave him a certain compatibility with Caitlyn. Righteous, no nonsense, good as grail, Caitlyn. A certain compatibility that also, for obvious reasons, pissed hell out of Vi.

This could be shown in the way the two heroes chatted among themselves, seeming to forget the "Delinquent" in the group, and third wheel. So she walked ahead of them, arms behind her head just to show how much she didn't give a shit about either the pompous hero, or the sheriff who sometimes made her trip on her own words. She was doing a good job of pretending to be laid back and blocking out every word when a single sound broke through her mental defenses. A laugh. A pretty delicate laugh that reminded one of tea cups.

That.

That.

That _asshole_ had made her laugh, something Vi could never have done in the whole time she'd been on the force. And it'd seemed he'd done it so easily. But Cait was a professional, she didn't do relationships. They were just a distraction, an interruption. Vi had nothing to worry about. And yet logical argument didn't stop her from picking up her pace, speed walking away from them, perking her ears up a bit in case one of them had chased after her, to ask her why she was running off so fast. She reached the teleportation device and no such thing happened. She glanced back and saw the two still chatting, still happy, not even noticing she was gone.

Rudely, Vi spat to the side of the device, mucking up the clean floors. She stepped through on her own. Once she had crossed over and was sure she was alone, the enforcer let out a sigh. The exhale sounded disappointed. Too disappointed. Vi didn't like that.

A/N: Sorry I took so long, but I swear I didn't forget. On another note, I actually have an ending planned now. Not a great ending, but an ending nonetheless, and it'll be pretty open ended. Before that though, I'll try to squeeze in as many life moments as I can. I also fear I'm losing my touch. Hopefully just a rough patch. Until the next time.


	5. Refreshing

Vi was tired. No, that was an understatement. She was absolutely ready to drop dead where she stood. Fortuneately, she had managed to drag herself back into the comforts of her apartment until then. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she leaned on it for support. Her head lifted to look up at the cieling. Black spots started to blot out her vision, and her mouth hung out agape, too tired for her jaw.

And speaking of heavy, her gauntlets, which had been dear friends for years, fiercely tugged at her arms. Aided by gravity, they may rip her limbs from their socket. Eventually she crumpled onto her knees, but she still leaned back against the door all the same. She could pass out now, and it would be so easy, but Vi was too stubborn to just lie on the ground. So she smashed a hextech clad fist into the wooden floor (Probably pissing off the neighbor below her) and levered herself up to two feet again.

She rose, and took one shaky step after another to the old black couch smack dab in the middle of her apartment. It had seen better days, the leather still shined when she first got it. But after being crushed by her multiple times, it had finally conformed to her form. The springs could only handle her abuse for so long, and it was sad to say that the old thing used to be a lot more comfortable. Nonetheless, she dropped onto it, not really caring if she damaged it more (How worse could it get?), and proceeded to remove one gauntlet, then the other.

It phased through her mind that maybe she should forgo her usual ritual, of scrubbing and cleaning, and laying her babies nice and flat on the table, and simply going straight to bed. But "No", she thought, no, these dear friends have been with her for too long to stop caring about them now. So she did just that, and even though her eyes drooped lower and lower, she fought the urge, and saw it through to the end. So much conviction, so much care and love. And plenty more to give.

Forgoing her nightly shower however, was a process very often repeated. Perhaps too much, but no one on the squad ever noticed (Or were too scared to say anything). Tonight was another one of those nights, even worse actually. She had been worked to the bone for weeks now, and she doubted she could stand tall long enough for a shower. Besides, your blisters feel funny when cold water hits em. So she would go to sleep once again drenched in sweat. In the middle of winter.

It all started when some pasty white, maniacal grinned, blue haired, trigger happy harlot blew into town on a breeze of mayhem. Thievery, heists, black market trading, gang violence, those she could handle. But senseless nuts causing destruction for the hell of it? For no profit? That was something new. And tiring, very tiring. Vi had been close, oh so many times has she been close, but the brat always disappears a finger-tip away and dashes away through the smoke, leaving a trademark laughter. It pissed the enforcer greatly, and even worse was that the freak seemed to take a liking to her. Great, just great.

So what the punk does, is that she makes a challenge for Vi, and of course she accepts (It's not like she even had a choice, no else on the squad could get close to the building without getting their head blown off). And she's not an idiot, of course she knew it was a trap, but what else could she do? And it's not like knowing a trap was set up makes it not exist, how could she stop an entire fucking building from collapsing on her? And when she finally digs herself out of the rubble, she's surrounded by lights, and catches Caitlyn being chewed out by higher up officials with their head stuck in their asses.

So she got reprimanded, no big deal, really. What was a few months on the graveyard shift to her? Well nothing at first, but evidently those long nights started to take a heavy toll. She could barely get home on the best nights, and on the worse she'd fall asleep on the train and miss her stop. The extra pay was crap too, it might have been worth the long grueling, had they not take skim off the top to "Pay for the repairs of the destroyed treasury". What bullshit.

Caitlyn was slightly resentful about Vi's failure, and though it was hidden behind professionalism, you could feel it in the air. And yet, Vi found that she was okay with this. Let the sheriff be pissy if she wanted, Vi wasn't at fault here. She was the only one who was allowed to enter the treasury, and in each and every encounter, was the closest one to catching that twig-armed basket case. And it wasn't like the sheriff could have done anything anyway, so she could just shove it.

And a small smile graced the enforcer's lips. She had finally stood up to the boss lady, even if it was just in her head, it was one step closer. She was one step closer to escaping (Although a little flutter in her chest remained consistent). The prospect of freedom seemed to have soothed her aching muscles and sore spine. She felt comfortable in her cheap sheets, and wrapped herself in them giddily. While her eyes burned from fatigue, her eyelids brought so much relief when she shut them. Things were looking up for her, feelings be damned (Well, not entirely), and tomorrow was a brand new day. Even if she did wake up the next morning feeling like crap.

**A/N: So sorry it's been a while. So I was going to do a Jinx chapter, but decided it would be pretty boring. It would have been exactly the same as every other chapter of this fic, and angst-angst-one-sided-love gets pretty old when done to such an extent. And a lot of you guys, including VulpesVulpix (This chappy was for your birthday sorry it's so late x.x), who had been saying that you can't stand Vi being so hurt all the time. So here she is getting better, and this ties in nicely with the bittersweet ending I have planned, coming soon. Oh hey, I actually have an ending planned!**


	6. Forward

The story ends where it began, that is to say, Sheriff Caitlyn's office. The moment had the same sunset, the same fancy desk, the same sheriff, and the same enforcer, though not without key differences. For one thing, Vi was not filling out paperwork, but rather dropping it off. Well, more like a single sheet, leaf thin, fragile in her bruiser's hands. She is biting her tongue today, not intoxicated by the scent of her superior's shampoo, not falling into Caitlyn's control again. Vi is her own woman.

That is what she tells herself as she stands, slightly hunched, over the desk. One arm slacks freely, while the other holds the sheet firm to the tabletop. Sunshine bounces off her pink hair, turning it auburn, turning it the moment serene-

But boss lady is not amused.

"Vi, what is this?" Caitlyn asks with narrowed eyes. Her lips flatten together, her chin raises into the air, just slightly, and her brows furrow into something disapproving. Her iconic top hat sits unused on the desk, to Vi's left and Caitlyn's right. The sun does wonders for her too, especially in the way it gleams off her exposed shoulders. They look soft, smooth, and as though they could fit in Vi's hands like puzzle pieces, and then she could just pull Caitlyn closer and-

"Easy there, old girl." She tells herself, and a slow breath out of "O" shaped lips to regain composure, and then

"I'm requesting a sector change." Perfect. Practiced. And Vi even managed to keep eye contact. She refused to falter.

"I can see that." Replied the sheriff coolly. "What I'm asking is why." And there was no question about it, judging by the clipped tone.

Vi purses her lips, and then shoots out "Emotional distress." In a rolled up breath.

The sheriff raises an eyebrow. "Emotional distress?" She asks unbelieving. It even sounds a little taunting.

"Swhat I said." Vi replies.

The room quiets then, save for the ticking of a clock. It rings in both of their ears, perhaps counting down their last moments together.

The sheriff closes her eyes, going deep into thought, leaving the enforcer at the mercy of her own thoughts and infatuation.

Finally, the boss lady takes her chin of her bridge of fingers and says "Would you like to talk about it?"

Vi chokes on her own spit.

She hacks and pounds her chest, the thumping drowning out the sound of ticks and tocks. When she recovers herself, she has to look into Caitlyn's widened eyes.

"What?" She coughs out, hoping for clarity.

A couple of blinks, and Caitlyn's face is composed again. She repeats "I asked if you would like to talk about your distress? I would like to avoid the trouble of filing this if I can." The two stare awkwardly, so she continues "And besides, moving away isn't the best way to deal with these kinds of issues."

She then makes an expectant expression. If there were ever a time to confess, it would be now.

"No." Responds the enforcer, and then swallowing to abolish the drywall of her throat, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"I see." Replies the sheriff, and she closes her eyes again, returning to deep thought. The bends of her delicate index finger makes contact against her soft lips. It isn't a long trance, but in the moment it feels like one.

"That is…" She searches for the right word "unfortunate. It was a pleasure and great benefit to have you here, but if this area causes you distress, I can't hold you here." With that, the boss lady reaches for a black pen that can write curves like waves, and immediately goes to work on the transfer request.

"You may leave." She suggests, and Vi is only happy to oblige. She gets up and walks out the door, closing it behind her with a soft crick, forgetting the obligatory "Thank you".

Once she was through the doorway, Vi exhales tension, getting used to the new air. It's like a different world out here, as where The Sheriff's office was quiet (save for an agonizing clock), the rest of the office was a blur of noise. People chatted with each other, with phones, with Excuse Me's as they shoveled past each other with stacks of paperwork. Phones rang and were put on hold, bored officers clicked their pens on and off, and the seniors were laid back enough to even make drum beats with their palms.

Vi started in the direction of her locker to begin packing. She wasn't specific on where she wanted to be transfer, but it would be guaranteed that whoever her new captain was, they would be much less distracting. This was her marching, conquering the feelings that were holding her back. This was her moving on, getting closure.  
>So why did it feel like running away?<p>

With each step, her legs and chest feel heavier. She feels like she's leaving craters with each step, and her feet move less and less apart until she halts completely. Whatever this feeling was, it wasn't right. It wasn't Vi.

She berates herself as she gives a long sigh. Where did all that bliss go from the night before? What happened to all that relief, her prospect of freedom? Were they simply the arbitrary rantings of her upset mind, the ramblings of a tired night- burned away by the morning's sun?

Crushing her fingers with her thumb, the enforcer turns on her heels and marches back. This earns a few confused stares, but she tries not to let them burn. She turns the knob and almost barges in, but stops herself.

"Keep your cool." She mentally repeats, until she releases her vice grip on the sheriff's door and knocks (as) softly (as she can) in single clear notes, three times. "Come in." says the lady on the other end, and Vi does just that.

Looking up momentarily, Caitlyn sees it is her enforcer once again. "Oh, Vi? How convenient, I've just finished filling out your form, could you hand it to Clark please?"

Being here again, Vi's nerves are shot. She stands there staring at her fellow officer and the documents with unfocused eyes. The walls seem to be closing in. She wants to break free. She wants to breathe, but this isn't something she can just punch. She needs to punch through life, to face this, to not run off like a brat.

"Actually, about that request" snakes it way from shaky lips.

"Oh?" Asks the other with a tilted head. It makes her look so goddamn pretty.

"I" And she lets it hang in the air, keeping the both of them waiting. Words, finding them, saying them was never for her. The walls seem so close now.

"You" She chokes out, oddly hesitant for a woman of her physique. She takes a quick breath and slams her hand on the closest wall demanding the world to stop, and the control helps her cope.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" She angrily breathes out.

And though her eyes were closed she could feel the room return to a normal state. When her eyes do open, she no longer feels afraid, it's as if she never was. For how long had she made it a bigger thing than it was?

"I'd love to." Comes a firm response from a blank face, which shifts into a polite smile. The enforcer returns it with a slightly wider, slightly more cocky one, though it fits her well.

"Pick you up at 8 tomorrow?" She asks, not in disbelief, but with a natural confidence that she doesn't know why she ever discarded.

"Sure, and Vi? What took you so long?"

The woman in question reached for the transfer request and tore it in two, and then in four.

"Nothin special. Emotional distress."

A/N: That's it, that's the end, and first off I'd like to apologize for taking so long. Writing this was a valuable learning experience, like for example to have a clear idea of how to end a story, or else I'll keep winging it and dragging it out, and then not knowing what to do and leaving it on hiatus for several months.

I also learned that one-shot on one-sided attraction is fine, but to have a story devoted to angst? That's just boring! And lazy of me for relying on a few key emotions for several chapters, I mean, that's just horrible of me.

But for those of you who enjoyed the story, and kept up to this point, I thank you all.


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